Boy

There is poetry in the movement of my lost loneliness

There is a dream in this boy’s heart

And a story in his eyes,

There is pain in his words

And death in his smile

And a lost ness that on one can see

There is glitter on his eyelids

And his eyes shine blue

And the dust pores though his skin

Like flowers through the dirt.

“I am a boy, I am my mother’s son and I am covered in dirt and glitter.

I feel the cold winter morning on my skin,

My body like ice”

This boy feels cold inside and there is no happy ever after that he can see,

He is lost, alone and feels no beat in his heart.

He waits and waits for the body of a man to caress his skin.